


FOR you

by RedK



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Forgiveness, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:04:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5244257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedK/pseuds/RedK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John finally talk at Mary's behest. Both men show what the years have done to them/ what they have done to themselves. (Mentions of established relationship before the fall.)</p>
<p>Story inspired by a writing prompt I saw on Pinterest: ***Imagine John being so angry and frustrated with Sherlock that he snaps and pulls up his sleeves to reveal all the scars he has from having self-harmed while Sherlock was gone and him screaming "I DID THIS BECAUSE OF YOU!" And Sherlock going completely silent with hurt in his eyes as he looks at the scars until he starts unbuttoning his shirt and takes it off to reveal numerous scars and torture marks from his 2 years dismantling Moriarty's network and being tortured by Serbians and quietly says "I did this FOR you."***</p>
            </blockquote>





	FOR you

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters!

John was angry, how could he not be. Yes, he was happy Sherlock was alive and yes he missed him but John was finding it very difficult to let go of the feeling of betrayal. Sherlock was alive, was alive this whole time and didn’t tell him. Rage began building again in John’s chest as he walked back to his old home on Baker Street. He had agreed, at Mary’s behest, to meet Sherlock there so that Sherlock could explain himself, to make him understand. But with each step John found himself wishing he never agreed to this meeting, he didn’t feel ready to see Sherlock again just yet much less forgive him. All too soon John found himself staring at the familiar numbers and letter: 221b.

John didn’t bother knocking. Taking a deep breath, he swung the door open instead and let it slam shut. The violin music playing in the background came to an abrupt stop as John walked into the room where he and Sherlock had spent hours mulling over cases and solving them two years before. Not surprisingly Sherlock’s back was to John, his violin now laying on the table where John’s computer used to be. John stood there a moment before sitting in his old chair, crossing his legs and donning a look of annoyance. He sat like that for a few minutes before Sherlock turned to face him.

“John,” Sherlock began, “I know you’re angry and I know I’m probably the last person you want to be speaking to right now but you must listen to me I…”

“I must listen to you?” John interrupted, “That’s a riot. Did you listen to me when I begged for one more miracle at your grave? When I pleaded with you not to be dead? No, instead you let me believe you were gone for two bloody years! And angry?! No Sherlock, I’m not angry. I am far, far past angry.”

John closed his eyes and stopped himself before he said any more. He had promised Mary to hear Sherlock out. Mary, who had been his saving grace in his darkest hour. Mary, who had shown him that he could love again. When he opened them again a few heartbeats later he noticed Sherlock had moved from standing by the window to sitting in his chair across from him.

“John,” Sherlock started again, looking at the floor his voice calm. “I had to. Moriarty would have killed you, killed Ms. Hudson and Lestrade too if I hadn’t jumped. He had a sniper locked on to you when we were on the phone. Moriarty killed himself so I couldn’t make him call off the shooter. John I swear to you everything I did I did to protect you. To protect the people I cared and still do care about. John do try and understand.” 

John only sat staring at Sherlock.

“I made Mycroft promise to look after you while I was away,” Sherlock said, placing his head in his hands, eyes cast on the floor “and Molly too. They both said that they would help make sure no harm came to you from any of Moriarty’s goons while I was trying to dismantle his web.”

A fresh wave of anguish washed over John. Mycroft and Molly had known Sherlock was still alive; had told the brother he kept at distance and a woman he rejected but not him, his lover. Sherlock continued speaking, oblivious at the moment of the pain he had just caused John.

“The web ran farther than I thought, a mass of connections that stretched around the world! I still haven’t finished plucking all the strings but soon we’ll have the whole of it squished just like the spider himself,” Sherlock said with pride, finally looking up at John again.

What he saw made him flinch and his stomach roll. John’s face had gone completely white and his hands trembled in his lap. His eyes no longer held rage but rather something far worse as far as Sherlock was concerned; nothing. They were blank. Gone was the man he knew years ago, the man before him simply a ghost of whom he loved.

“John?” Sherlock asked, his voice wavering slightly. “Say something.”

Minutes ticked by. The silence making Sherlock grow more and more anxious and scared. What had he done? When John finally spoke his voice was so soft Sherlock had to lean forward to hear him.

“Why didn’t you tell me Sherlock? Why did you let me live in hell for two years?”

“I…” Sherlock started to say.

“NO!” John shouted suddenly, “I listened to you now you listen to me! Do you even realize what you put me through?! I loved you! For months after you “died” I could barely sleep, barely eat. I was lost, devastated, broken Sherlock. A part of me died that day with you!”

Sherlock tried once more to speak but John kept shouting, jumping up from his chair to pace in front of Sherlock.

“I tried therapy, I tried working as much as possible, bloody hell I even tried self-medicating but nothing could take the pain away!” John ran a hand through his hair before stopping and facing Sherlock. “I got so low I tried to take my life just so I would be reunited with you,” he whispered.

Sherlock’s face contorted, his calm demeanor crashing to the ground as he subconsciously reached for John.

“No,” John said, backing away from Sherlock while rolling up his sleeves in the process. “You left me Sherlock. You saved me only to leave me worse off than I ever was.” John’s voice was cracking and his eyes were beginning to fill with tears as once more he raised his voice and thrust his wrists out toward Sherlock. “I DID THIS BECAUSE OF YOU!” Two long lines ran down John’s forearms down to his wrists, one on each arm.

Sherlock said nothing, slowing rising instead. John watched as Sherlock began unbuttoning his shirt until it lay open and hanging loosely from his shoulders. Only then did Sherlock meet John’s eyes as he said in a small voice, “and I did this… FOR you,” letting his shirt fall to the floor. John gasped aloud as he took in the scars and now fading bruises covering Sherlock’s chest. Burn marks from cigarettes decorated his right shoulder, a rather fresh cut ran down his left side and a large jagged ran down the center of his torso starting from his sternum. Dozens of other smaller scars and cuts adorned his body as Sherlock turned, now facing away from John, his back exposed. Seeing the scars from where Sherlock had been flogged and beaten made John feel sick to his stomach. Without realizing it John reached forward to touch one particularly bad scar and Sherlock flinched before turning to face John again, his eyes downcast and cloudy.

“Oh Sherlock,” John whispered.

Sherlock barely had enough time to catch John as John crumpled to the floor. His body heaving as all of the pain of the past few years burst from his eyes and his chest, sobbing as Sherlock pulled him close. As he sat on the floor holding John, Sherlock finally let himself feel the emotional pain of being separated from the man he had come to love and let his tears flow freely with John’s. They kneeled there on the floor holding each other for what seemed like an eternity and yet only a second. It was Sherlock that was the first to speak, his hand cupping the back of John’s head.

“I love you.”

It was whispered so softly that had John’s ear not been right next to Sherlock’s lips he would have missed it. Slowly John lifted his head from Sherlock’s shoulder, his red eyes meeting Sherlock’s and with only a moments hesitation, brought his still quivering lips to Sherlocks. It was a simple kiss, but one that was filled with forgiveness, love and redemption. And while John did very much still love Mary, Sherlock would always have his heart.


End file.
